


Bas Saarebas

by I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins



Series: The Reason [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins/pseuds/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*on temporary hiatus, promise I'll finish but not sure when*</p><p>A young Qunari discovers she has magic in her blood.  She runs, terrified, from the Qun, from her life, from everything. When she runs into a member of the Ben-Hassrath, she knows she has been caught.</p><p>But this Hissrad is different than the other Qunari. He, and his band of Mercenaries, are loud and boisterous. They seem to enjoy the chaos that the rest of Thedas thrives on. But Saarebas is a dangerous thing- uncontrolled, untrained, unbound. </p><p>Watch as she discovers the world and a life outside of the Qun and see if she decides to leap into the chaos or rejoin the Qun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bas Saarebas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orangeflavor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeflavor/gifts).



> Features "Daruis" from "On Bended Knee" which is part of the "In Darkness Lies the Truth" series. You do not need to read one to understand the other. This does however take place many years after that, though, so I will try to avoid plot spoilers for any who might be reading both series.

9:35 Dragon

Her skin burns; a sharp, blinding agony that's ripping through her until all she can see is white stars twinkling in her eyes. But she doesn't stop running. Her muscles scream in protest as she forces one step after another in a pace that is a half-run, half-stumble. She trips and her mouth fills with dirt from the ground. Her heart races as voices shout behind her.

"Vinek kathas!"

"Katara! Nehraa Qun!" 

A cold sweat trickles down her spine as she forces herself back to her feet. She can't let them catch her. She doesn't want to die.

 _It's the will of the Qun. Submit._ A dark voice whispers through her mind, soon drowned out by a maddening fear. Her pulse is trapped in her throat, fluttering like the wings of a trapped butterfly. A nearby bush catches on fire and the men behind her howl in rage. 

It wasn't really supposed to be like this, was it? She wasn't really a Saarebas... right? Powerful magic knocks into from behind and she can feel herself being lifted through the air. For a moment, she's flying, wind blowing her long black hair in tangles around her curved horns. Fear falls away and she closes her eyes.

 But it only lasts a second. Her body hits the ground and a sickening crack shakes her entire head. She lifts herself up, slowly, and sees her horns lying in front of her. She reaches a hand up and her fingers are pricked by the jagged edges of the remaining stumps.

Cold, angry tears fall down her cheeks. A ragged scream rips itself from somewhere deep inside as she turns toward her hunters. She throws her arms outward and bright purple flames burst from her fingertips, leaping forth to consume the tally gray men who desire her death.

 They have only one mage with them. It is too dangerous to have more than one.

  _Foolish._

 Her rage intensifies her untrained powers and soon she is surrounded by nothing but a few corpses. 

 She turns, body heavy with weariness. She knows they will send more. Up until the cursed magic had shown, she had been one of them. Now she is nothing. Saarebas. Bas saarebas, for she had ran from the will of the Qun.

 She looks down at her hands as she walks, pain still rippling through her body. Where could she go? Where would she hide? She walks for hours, feet numbly taking her far from where she had came. Her throat begs for water but she ignores it. A small scowl and some coin she finds along the way earns her passage aboard a ship. The ocean mashes and moans, turning her stomach as it makes its way to a place whose name she's already forgotten.

 When she arrives, eyes watch her with open fear. She shudders, terrified they'll try to hunt her, too. Slowly she makes her way to a tavern, the foreign common tongue harsh to her ears. Loud music floats in the air as she makes her way to the bar.

She shoves some coin at the dwarf behind the counter and points to her throat. "Maraas-Lok," she rasps, desperate for some form of liquid.

 The barkeep just stares at her, beady eyes blank of recognition. A tall shadow looms over her and she glances up. Her eyes widen as she stares at the naked chest of a Qunari. "The kid wants a drink," he says, voice deep and rumbly.

 She shakes her head, Qunlat falling fast from her lips, as she pleads for her life. She begs him not to kill her, tears streaming down her cheeks. He places a strong hand on her shoulder. "Relax, kid, I didn't come here to kill anyone today," he says with a chuckle.

 He reaches behind her and grabs a mug. He shoves it at her and she stares down at the golden brown liquid. "Drink," he says.

 She frowns up at him, confused. "Dr-drink?" she says, trying to mimic his words.

 "Well, that's a start," he rumbles.

 

~*~*~

 

The Iron Bull stares down at the Qunari female. He can feel the untamed magic on her, thick and heavy and wild. She's a pretty little thing, with long black flowing hair and broken horns. Her deep pink toned eyes travel around the small room with fear and suspicion. He chuckles to himself as she watches him, mumbling in  Qunlat.

"If you're going to abandon the Qun, you should at least learn trade tongue, kid," he says to her in their native tongue.

She firmly shakes her head, clenching her fists together. "I am not Tal-Vashoth." The Saarebas straightens her shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "Victory lies in the Qun."

"You ran from the Qun," he reminds her. "Do you plan on returning?"

"Yes."

He nods his head, glancing over at his men. The ones who had followed him from Fisher's Bleeders. His expression softens as he watches them drink. "They'll kill you as soon as you return. You've been too long from a Arvaarad's leash."

The Saarebas nods her head, hair tumbling in front of her face. "I know." Her hands are trembling as she speaks, lip wavering despite her brave words.

The Iron Bull looks her up and down, stroking his chin as he ponders his options. Her magic is wild, new, untrained. Her fear is palpable, and no likely already lurring demons near. But Dalish can teach her, or Stiches. Both are capable and apt in handling their magic, and well versed at hiding from templars as well. "Or you could serve the Qun in another way." His tone is firm, despite his inner dilemma.  

She bites down on her lower lip, pulling the dark grey skin in through her teeth as she furrows her brow, staring off into the distance. "How?" she asks, unblinking.

The Iron Bull grins. "Work for me," he replies, winking down at her.

She growls low in her throat, narrowing her eyes up at him. "You are Tal-Vashoth," she spits out. " _I_ follow the Qun."

His grin quickly turns to a frown, annoyance humming through him. "I'm not Tal-Vashoth. I work for the Ben-Hassrath," is his low and quiet reply.

"Hey, Boss, aren't you going to introduce us to your lady friend?" Krem asks as he joins them, an easy grin on his face.

The Iron Bull c laps him on the shoulder, a wide smiling splitting across his face. "Krem dela Krem," he jokes; switching to trade tongue with a laugh.

Krem groans loudly, shrugging him off. "Yes, how clever, bet it took all day for you to come up with that one, didn't it, boss?"

"Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it?"

The Saarebas looks between them, a blank look of confusion clouding her strong features. "Ah, he wants to know your name," The Iron Bull says in Qunlat. "Name," he repeats in trade.

Krem blinks at her a moment before offering up a hesitant smile. "My name is Krem," he says, holding out his hand.

The female Qunari stares at it, one brow raised. "I... am Bas Saarebas," she replies.

"Uh, sorry, what does it mean?"

The Iron Bull chuckles. "It means 'Dangerous Thing' in Qunlat, Krem de cacao," he explains, giving his second-in-command the easy explanation.

"Stop calling me weird shit," Krem grumbles back, rubbing the back of his neck. "It does't feel very polite to call someone a thing," he adds.

The Iron Bull shrugs as Krem furrows his brow in thought. "How about we call you 'Danger'? Sounds a bit better anyway," Krem says, smiling at the Saarebas.

The Iron Bull lets out an exasperated sigh as she simply stares at Krem, clearly not understanding. "The first thing we're doing is teaching you some basic trade," he grumbles in Qunlat. "Come have a round of drinks and meet the rest of my men. Unless you're ready to return to the Qun?

The Saarebas slowly nods her head. "I will serve the Ben-Hassrath," she says, kneeling down. "In the Qun, all truth shall be found."

 

~*~*~

 

Saarebas stares at The Iron Bull in abstract horror, his muscles bulging as he laughs. "This does not benefit the Qun," she accuses, taking a few steps away from him and his second, the man they call Krem. "No," she adds in trade, picking one of the few words she remembers from The Iron Bull's lesson the night before. "No," she repeats, shaking her head.

Krem beams at her, and her heart skips a beat. He elbows The Iron Bull and says something in trade. His tone is gentle, kind, and she smiles hesitantly at him, hoping he's on her side. 

The Iron Bull shrugs, still laughing, as he grabs one of the burlap sacks full of feathers. "It's an easy job, kid," he says. 

"This one better not pay us in rice," Krem quips, and she understands the words 'the' and 'rice'. 

"How will dressing in chicken feathers serve the Qun?" she asks, staring at the bag with uncertainty.

The Iron Bull sighs, shaking his head at her. His long horns seem to shine in the low candlelight, curved and almost touching the low ceiling. "While you and Krem are distracting the nobles, I'm going to steal information the Arishok requires. Are you questioning the Qun?" he asks, and she can't tell how much of what he says is in jest.

She looks at Krem, cheeks burning. "Krem will look like a chicken as well?" she asks, causing the man to frown.

"I've heard my name twice now, what's going on?"

The Iron Bull leans over to whisper something in his ear. Krem's eyes widen as he steps back. "No," he says, mirroring her earlier objection.

"Aw, come on kid, she's scared," The Iron Bull pleads. He turns to Saarebas. "Show Krem you're scared, go on, look sad and say 'please'."

She blinks at Krem. "Please," she says in Qunlat.

The Iron Bull stares at her a moment, face twisted in irritation. "Did you forget the trade word for that one or are you being obstinate?"

Her lips quirk into a tiny smile as she meets his eye. He clears his throat as he waits before she meekly nods her head. "Please," she mutters in trade, knowing that she must follow the Ben-Hassrath's plan. It is not for her to understand, it is merely her role to follow. 

Krem closes his eyes, a slow sigh passing between his lips. "Not fair, boss. Alright, let's you and me go be chickens, Lady Danger," he says, opening one eye and offering her an encouraging smile. She can't understand everything he says, but his smile is nice.

Saarebas turns to the burlap sack. "Nehraa Qun," she whispers, heart sinking as she pictures herself covered in feathers, dancing for the Basra Vashedan.

But at least she is serving the Qun. Her heart flutters painfully tight beneath her breast, still caught between fear of death and a desire to uphold the will of the Qun. She clenches her fist as The Iron Bull carefully coats her skin and clothes in honey, watching as Krem does the same to himself. He exchanges a glance with her, his smile reassuring as he up ends one the sacks over his head, feathers spilling out and sticking to his body. He bends his arms at the elbows, making odd shaped wings as he flaps them, glaring at The Iron Bull.

"Bawk," he mutters, mocking the sound a chicken makes with dry sarcasm evident in his tone.

Saarebas lets out an unexpected laugh, chuckling as she watches him. She copies the movement as the remaining sack is dumped over her. "Bawk, bawk?" she says, a questioning lilt to her voice.

The Iron Bull rolls his eyes. "I'm glad to see you two are amused," he says, repeating the words in trade for Krem. As she watches them share a few more words she doesn't understand, she decides to study more of the strange language. She wants to understand, and become more useful to the Ben-Hassrath as more than just a Saarebas.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Art by: 
> 
> http://blood-unbound.deviantart.com/
> 
> http://brokenmirrorsneverlie.tumblr.com/


End file.
